


Permission Granted

by Sealie



Series: sga/traders [9]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Traders (TV 1995)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-20
Updated: 2006-08-20
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:05:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sealie/pseuds/Sealie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stargate Atlantis/Traders crossover no' 9 [voyage par mer segment]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Permission Granted

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: PG  
> Spoilers: none  
> Betas: LKY and Klostes. I kinda played with this after getting the betas, so the booboos belong to me.
> 
> sub-chapter title courtesy of Tipsywitch

**Permission Granted.**   
**  
by Sealie   
**

Bedlam, organised, military bedlam, McKay grumbled inwardly, as he and Grant stepped into the SGC embarkation room. There was a veritable forest of storage containers set before him. In between them, SCG staff ran back and forth ensuring equipment was correctly stored. Against the far wall, a squad of marines waited patiently, each had a MOLLE backpack and a large crate. The squad’s corporal was conversing with a lieutenant, bringing his attention to a sheaf of papers on a clipboard. Walter called something incomprehensible over the public address system and at a nod from the lieutenant, four marines started to move large crates stamped with USAF from blocking the opposite doorway.

At McKay’s side, Grant shivered violently, hands coming up to his ears. He was on the brink of collapsing on his knees when McKay got him under the arm and kept him upright. McKay body pushed Grant away from the entrance, half into the shelter of a stack of medical supplies. Still holding his cousin’s arm, he set Mr. Jinx's cat carrier on the floor. Grant continued to shiver, dropping his hands as he tried to turn away from McKay’s hold. Another clatter across the embarkation room sent Grant shying back.

“Freeze, Grant.” Rodney clicked his fingers. “Focus. Focus on me.”

Rodney caught Grant’s chin and turned his head so he could look him in the eye. Immediately, Grant ducked his head, burrowing into the folds of his collar. But he stilled.

“Grant,” Rodney said between gritted teeth, “if you keep this up, I’m not going to be able to get you to Atlantis. It just people getting ready to go up to the Daedalus. It’s nothing to be frightened of.”

Grant reached up and pulled his green boonie hat down over his ears. Rodney straightened and took an assessing gaze of the SGC embarkation room. Nobody had caught their altercation. Elizabeth was deep in conversation with O’Neill. She was dabbling her fingers against her chin – something that she only did when she was anxious. Carson was standing in the far corner, looking constipated, as he contemplated matter transportation. Sheppard, likely bored, had wandered off and was nowhere to be seen. The new staff milled around behind the Stargate, corralled there by the presence of security guards dotted throughout the room holding big, scary looking guns. Actually on the Stargate ramp, a couple of grunts were stowing the final load of computer equipment to be transported up to the Daedalus in geosynchronous orbit overhead. McKay didn’t follow the logic of the grunts moving the equipment into the embarkation room; it wasn’t as if the Asgard couldn’t pinpoint any device or person anywhere on the entire planet and beam it into the Daedalus’ hold. Nobody had listened when he had pointed that fact out.

He had already organised pick up of Grant’s entire computer set up from the Air Force base at Camp Borden north west of Toronto. And there had only been moderate complaints that they had had to transport it from Grant’s Toronto apartment to the base, so it hadn’t been that much of an imposition. It struck him that it was the height of inefficiency to insist that they pack and congregate together like tourists heading out on a cruise.

Elizabeth raised her hands in a gesture of defeat. O’Neill shrugged his shoulders, his expression vaguely amused. Shaking her head, but a slight smile on her face, she left O’Neill’s side heading straight to Carson. Swearing inwardly, McKay made a half step from Grant – Carson and Elizabeth talking might reveal a certain little deception that he had orchestrated.

Abandoned, O’Neill was turning in a circle. Spotting them, he stuck his hands deep in his pockets and ambled over. McKay shifted back a step, shielding Grant with his body. Folding his arms over his chest, he glared at the inquisitive general. Behind him he felt Grant grip the hem of his fleece and twist it in his fingers.

Cocking his head to the side, O’Neill tried to see around McKay’s bulk.

“Grant’s feeling a bit shy at the moment,” McKay said directly. “As you can probably guess it’s a bit overwhelming.”

“You’ve got an answer for everything, haven’t you, McKay?”

McKay let the smile turn his top lip. “Well, I am a genius.”

The returning stare was implacable.

Jesus, McKay thought, his eyes are like a shark’s. A cold, as intense as the Siberian winter, froze his guts. With great deliberation, O’Neill rocked slowly to the side to better see Grant, whose head was now pushing between Rodney’s shoulder blades. The fingers twisting at McKay’s hem were pulling the fabric tight over his stomach.

O’Neill looked McKay up and then down. “You going to look after him?”

“Yes!” McKay bristled, and then toned his voice down as Grant shivered against him.

“Grant, how are you doing?” O’Neill drawled.

Grant simply burrowed further into McKay’s back.

“Hey, Kid,” O’Neill said softly. “The Daedalus is on a six week turn around. If you find that Atlantis isn’t for you, you can come back on the next flight. Okay?”

There was no answer. McKay stared at O’Neill. Belatedly, he noticed that Sheppard was leaning against one of the piled up blocks of petascale Cray Super Computer components watching with a hawk-like gaze. A line of tension coursed through the lean form.

“Grant?” O’Neill said implacably, sliding closer. The air seemed to part before him.

The weight between his shoulder blades lifted and McKay, under that predatory gaze couldn’t move, couldn’t crane his neck to see what was happening. O’Neill circled him. Grant drew in a breath and held it. The hubbub of SGC personnel rushing around them to get ready before they departed seemed to quieten. McKay watched the scene through Sheppard; tense shoulders relaxed a fraction and McKay felt a visceral echo.

“Okay, son.” O’Neill stepped back into McKay’s line of sight

McKay jerked around, yanking his fleece free from Grant’s hand. Grant flinched, cupped hands coming up to his mouth. The faintest of smiles touched his lips where he nibbled on his thumbs. McKay glowered, thinking that somewhere not too far away, someone known as General Jack O’Neill, was making a joke at his expense. Grant shuffled back into his immediate personal space and, automatically, McKay looped an arm over his shoulders

O’Neill ambled away, every inch the senile old grandfather. McKay knew better.

Sheppard slid over as soon as O’Neill had wandered past the men guarding the embarkation room and out into the corridor.

“Hey, everything okay?”

“Fat lot of good you were, Sheppard,” McKay hissed.

“What did you expect me to do?” Sheppard cocked an eyebrow. “He’s a general. He used to lead SG-1, ran the SGC, he’s like--”

“God?” McKay said nastily.

Sheppard rolled his eyes. “My superior officer, McKay.”

Abruptly, Grant moved from under his arm, bending down to open the cat carrier at his feet. He pulled a mildly sedated Mr. Jinx from within and tucked him up against his neck.

“Hey.” Sheppard let the cat sniff his fingers before gently scratching him behind the ears.

Grant rubbed his chin against the top of Mr. Jinx’s head, stroking him with his unshaven chin. The bright red rash of the adhesive tape used to gag Grant was fading but he had refrained from shaving. McKay had no particular opinion on facial hair, but if Grant cultivated a beard or a goatee, there would be less confusion once they got to Atlantis and he was introduced. The trick in the meantime was keeping him away from Elizabeth until the rash faded and he started talking again. Remembering that little problem, he glanced to Carson –- who was now behind the Stargate. Elizabeth was no longer at his side. She was with the Lieutenant, signing the papers on his clipboard that he angled towards her. Carson was chatting with a young civilian, who was pasty white and a bit wild about the eyes, evidently a kindred soul who was less than enthusiastic about matter transportation.

“Have you got all of Mr. Jinx’s stuff?” Sheppard asked, trying to cajole Grant to speak.

In response, Grant toed Jinx’s carrier.

McKay huffed at the two grown men pampering his pet. “You better put Mr. Jinx back in his carrier until we get to our assigned berths. We don’t want to give what’s-his-face--” McKay clicked his fingers, “--Caldwell, any excuse not to have him on board.”

“Yeah, it’s for the best, Squirrel.” Sheppard extracted Jinx from Grant’s arms and, fumbling the liquid-limp cat, poured him back in the carrier.

The public address system pinged and everyone looked up to the viewing windows overhead. General O’Neill stood there with Landry and Mr. Woolsey of the International Oversight Advisory committee. O’Neill flicked the microphone again.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve just got the go ahead from the Daedalus.” He looked down directly at the trio huddled around the cat carrier. “Permission granted to go aboard.”

The white light of the transporter beam engulfed them.

  
 _fin_   



End file.
